Youthful Clay Minds Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Slapping sounds, hands on faces, traces of tears
encumbered in a moment, lifeless hazards hurting
anyway, the personalities of innocent little
victims.

Stomping on original figures, misusing and reshaping
minds of youthful clay, throwing into buckets, colors
of childhood, tossing aside their obvious innocence.

Struck by insidious comments, hiding, ducking out of
sight, licentious desires running wild, rampantly un-
folding lives of tiny children.

Like mazes taking over, uncovering bodies, doing what
they will with them, discarding later in heaps and
piles, those who cannot protect themselves.

Knowing exactly what they're doing, never caring, raping
children, scaring them away from intimacy ever again.

Growing older, hiding from everyone, lest the shame within
is spotted and hell begins again, forming exaggerated
boundaries, reaching ever wider, keeping away all outsiders,
good or bad.

Life careens down any path, taking risks unknowingly,
subconsciously praying for death to overtake it.

Snowballing into canyons filled with rocks, sharp and hard,
falling deeper underground, throwing dirt faster and faster
to cover up self and become invisible.